Once Upon A Time
by inwonderland
Summary: Hermione's head over heels with Charlie. Charlie is only after one thing. Unrequited love, angst.


**Title:** Once Upon A Time  
**Rating:** R  
**Pairing:** Hermione/Charlie  
**Summary:** Hermione's head over heels with Charlie. Charlie is only after one thing. Unrequited love, angst.  
**Author Notes:** For a meme of **inell**. She gave me the lyrics and I wrote the fic for them. :D No, I have never heard the song, and I didn't read the rest of the lyrics. Oops.

_I never will forget those nights  
I wonder if it was a dream  
Remember how you made me crazy?  
Remember how i made you scream?_

Boys of Summer by Don Henley

**Once Upon A Time**

She didn't have a clue how it started. She didn't know whether she wanted it to continue. All she knew was that it was happening, and at that moment in time, she wished it would never end. It wasn't a good idea, it wasn't what she wanted from a relationship. It didn't have a fairy tale beginning, and she was sure if told, the story would never begin, once upon a time…. She knew it would end in tears, but when his hands were on her body, and his lips on hers, she thought that she could handle that, if only he didn't stop touching her like that. But of course he did, and she was faced with the harsh reality that was her life.

Their first… encounter had been entirely expected. They'd been out with some friends one evening, and as soon as they'd seen each other it had seemed inevitable. At least, that's what Hermione liked to think happened anyway. He'd lent her his coat when she was cold, and he'd rested his chin on the top of her head, his hips gently resting on her hips. She'd seen the smirks on their companions' faces, their inquisitive glances, but she'd had no answers, and avoided their eyes. She didn't know what was happening either, only that it was good, and she wanted to see where they ended up.

She'd always had a soft spot for Charlie. They'd worked together during the war, and now it was over, and he'd remained at home in England, he'd begun to always be there. She'd admitted to herself that she fancied him. His, red, scruffy hair, a tan that was in fact all freckles, made more noticeable by the hot sun of his dragon reserve. Stocky in build, but still a head above her, a height that needed her to stand on her tip toes to reach his lips.

Where they'd ended up was kissing in front of Hermione's house. He'd offered to walk her home, and she'd agreed, smiling softly. As they reached her front door she had an unquenchable desire to kiss him, but tried to ignore it, not wanting to upset their friendship. It happened anyway. They hugged goodbye, Hermione's arms stretching around Charlie's neck, his hands resting on the small of her back, oh so close to her bum. She buried her head into his shoulder, not wanting to let go, loving the feel of his body against her own. It was in that moment, a spilt second decision that she decided that there was no way this evening was going to end without her having kissed him.

She pressed her lips to his neck, and felt his hands instantly slip to grasp her bottom. They both knew it had been coming all night. She kissed along his jaw bone, hovering near his mouth, waiting for him to kiss her, she needed the confirmation that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

As much as she knew it was coming, it shocked her when she felt his rough lips on hers, coaxing hers open. It took her a moment to respond, but when she did it was with determination and fire. She slid her tongue against his, pulling him closer, pressing herself against his chest, loving how he responded to her touch. She pulled away for a second her lips ghosting over his, and he muttered, "You're a great kisser," against her lips. She grinned and moved in again, sucking his lip between her own. Nothing like a bit of verbal encouragement to spur a girl on, she thought.

Not wanting to do anything she might later regret, as she could quickly feel herself loosing what self control she had left leave her, she pulled away. She kissed his cheek a couple of times before resting her head on his shoulder. His arms tightened around her and she smiled into his neck.

"I have to go," she whispered, standing on her tip toes and kissing him on the lips lightly.

"But…"

Hermione took his hands from round her waist and put them by his side. She smiled in what she hoped was an enigmatic way and turned away.

Charlie somewhere found his voice. "Good night, 'Mione."

"Thank you for walking me home. See you soon," she said and opened the door. She looked behind her and he grinned.

"I'll hold you to that, love. I will."

"You best do," she whispered as he walked away, and closed the door. She leant against the hard wood. "You best do."

There was something about Charlie, she decided, that she just couldn't forget. There was no way to get away from him. About a week after they'd first kissed he'd Owled her, asking how she was and whether she wanted to go out the next day. Him, Ron and Harry were going to the park in Diagon Alley for a fly about. Susan Bones, Ron's girlfriend was going as was Luna, who Harry always invited out with him when he wanted to be entertained.

The next day she turned up at the park on time, looking quite nice if she could say so herself. She'd bought herself a new skirt a few days before, although she'd had to change her top about twenty times to find one that looked all right with it. When she saw her group, Harry had bounded up to her with enthusiasm, hugging her quickly, and suddenly she wondered what on earth she thought she was playing at. It was Charlie for Gods sake, how was this going to work? How on earth was she supposed to act around him? What was he going to –

"Hermione!" he said as she walked up with Harry, who was chattering at her about Malfoy or some rubbish. She hugged him tightly, and almost started when his hands grabbed her bum roughly. Ron pulled her onto the rug, and Charlie sat next to her.

Charlie had flew off with the lads when they wanted to fly, doing twisted loops and complicated dives. Was it her or was he showing off? Or did he always fly like that? Was she just paying more attention?

He flew low across the grass, flying circles around them, before he tumbled to the ground, grasping his broom, playing dead. Hermione laughed and cocked her head looking at him, lying on the floor. He grinned at her, and jumped to his feet. He took a few steps to her and grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet.

"Come on, Hermione," he said. She wondered what happened to 'Mione'. It only ever sounded right coming from him. He was the only one she'd ever let call her that without getting a belt round the ear. He swung his leg over his broom and shuffled up. "Come on, darlin' live a little."

She frowned at him, biting her lip, before bunching up her skirt and getting on behind him. "Not too high," she warned. "Or too fast."

Charlie laughed. "Yes, Ma'am."

They took off, her hands screwed up in his shirt, holding on tightly. Her thighs clutched around his and she decided that she loved the feel of him against her more than anything, or anyone else, ever. There was nothing that could beat this feeling.

Or at least that's what she'd thought. Their day in the park had ended with a hug and a quick peck on the lips, and she found herself doubting what she was feeling, even when reminding herself that she was never wrong. She was disappointed in what had happened, wanting something more, wondering why he didn't want people to know. It was then that she had to remind herself that she had to figure out what there was to know before anything else. The next time they'd met, almost two weeks later, she was confused beyond what she'd ever felt before.

She was even more confused when she found herself straddling him on a bench later that evening, as he kissed down her chest, and his hands grasped her bum, urging her to keep moving over his crotch. She wanted more than anything to take off his shirt, feel his skin, but she knew she shouldn't, she knew that this was only sex to him, and she didn't want to be a meaningless fuck. It hurt to think of it, and decided just to enjoy the moment, and take it as it was, as if this was the last time he'd be touching her. There wasn't a chance in hell she'd sleep with him if she didn't know there wasn't a chance of a relationship at the end of it, she thought, as his hands slid up her top, and shoved her bra over her breasts so he could do what ever he was doing, because there was no better feeling than this, she decided.

It was almost a month later until she saw him again. He'd had a two-week trip back to his old dragon reserve, where he'd sporadically Owled her, sometimes distant, sometime flirty, sometimes making her gasp in shock at his audacity. It was then, she decided that men had no idea what they were supposed to be doing, and no idea how to behave. They were just plodding along like the rest of us, trying to make the best of whatever situations emerged from the woodwork. She wasn't sure if that was supposed to make her feel better. It should have. But it didn't.

Somehow she felt like she'd been dumped, even though nothing had happened. His non communication said more to her than she thought it ever could. Harry asked her why she looked like a wet weekend, and she'd rolled her eyes and changed the subject to Malfoy. Ron asked her why she looked like a slapped arse, and she's slapped him, telling his where to shove it before changing the subject to Quidditch. Other people, with a little more tact, had offered commiserating looks even though they had no idea what for.

The day before she'd met Charlie again he'd Owled her, and everyone had been suspicious of her fantastic mood. It was only the later, that she realised how daft she was being. He wanted her. She came running. There was no way he'd be free if she Owled him. But… she wanted to see him. At the moment she missed him so much, and wanted him to kiss her so much, she thought that maybe morals weren't entirely necessary. Everything would work out all right in the end. It had to. Didn't it?

She did see him that night. They'd met near the shops where Hermione lived. She lived on the outskirts of London, near enough to Diagon Alley to keep her happy, but far enough away to experience some semblance of normalcy in her life, but with her friends she very rarely managed to find any peace. It was how she liked it, even if she did whine about it occasionally. She wouldn't have it any other way.

"Hi," she said as she walked up to the shops. He stood there, hands in his jeans pockets, looking at a notice in a window.

He turned and grinned at her. "Muggles don't half make me laugh," he said, and pressed his lips to Hermione's. It felt right as his tongue entered her mouth, and better when hers was in his, tongues twisting around each other. He pulled away and said, "Hi." Then he kissed her again.

A minute or two later she pulled away and grabbed his hand.

"What?" he asked, looking delightfully ruffled.

She rolled her eyes. "We're not going to stand in front of a shop and kiss the _entire_ time," she said, leading him God knows where.

"Well… we didn't have to kiss," Charlie said. He looked thoughtful. "You could have gotten down on your knees. I could have got down on mine. We could fuck against that wall. We didn't have to kiss."

Hermione made a noise of disgust. "Sex, is that all you ever think about?" She didn't understand how undervalued kissing was. It was her favourite thing. It was the element that would always last.

"When I'm around you in those jeans, what else am I supposed to be think of?" he asked. He sounded genuinely confused. Hermione frowned.

"Well…" she said. "You could take your eyes off my arse. And my tits. You could listen to me. That's always a good thing," she said, purposely sounding slightly condescending. Good, she thought. That should teach him.

She had good intentions. That had to count for something. Didn't it? Probably not. It didn't explain how they'd ended up back at Charlie's two up, two down house in Diagon Alley, stretched out over his couch. Hermione had long lost her jeans and bra, them having been removed surprisingly fast after she entered the house. It didn't explain how she'd ended up on her knees, holding Charlie's hand to stop him pressing onto her head, trying to force his cock deeper down her throat. It was what she wanted, wasn't it? Charlie. She had him. But this wasn't how she wanted him.

She wanted to be with him, to be his girl friend, for him to love her, give her the chance to love him. She knew when it started that it looked unlikely. But, he might have changed for the right girl, couldn't he? Leopards never change their spots.

It was then that she decided. She was crouched in front of Charlie, one of her hands holding his, the other pushing his t-shirt up his chest. Charlie was bent over her now, two of his fingers had found their way inside her, thrusting roughly, his thumb massaging her clit. Wrong, wrong, wrong, she thought as a tear slid down her cheek. She looked up at him and his hand slid free of hers to wipe away the tear. Getting it over with was the only thing she wanted. She never should have started it, it was a mistake, she should have let him be a little crush, not such a huge mistake. This was never, never going to be right. This wasn't going to happen again. She may have been a few months late, but she'd decided. She could do better than this, better than feeling like a whore on her knees.

She sucked harder, pumping her hand up and down, and he came in her mouth with a grunt. Thanks for the fucking warning, she thought as she screwed up her face and swallowed. She licked her lips free of the substance, and heard him say, "Fucking awesome, love." She felt sick. She crawled up his body and attached her lips to his. He kissed her back hesitantly, and said, "I don't taste like that do I?"

Hermione nodded. "Nice, huh?" she said sarcastically.

Charlie raised his eyebrows. "What ever flies your broom stick, love." He groped for his wand and cast a cleaning charm at Hermione.

She felt mint flood her mouth. "Cheers," she said sarcastically. Oh, there were her jeans. She pulled them up her legs.

"All right there?" he asked. No, she thought, you really have no idea do you? What you do to me, how I feel? Fuck, I can't do this anymore, I need to feel more than a two Knut whore. I ache like hell, my throat is sore, and I have neck strain trying to stop you fucking my mouth. This has been the worst night of my life.

"I'm good," she said. She looked around for her bra. On the book shelf. At least that might have been a bit more fun. Quidditch. Maybe not. She could have been watching Eastenders at the moment. She pulled her top over her head and pulled her bra on. Inside out. Fuck it.

"I won't look," Charlie leered. Hermione really didn't care whether he looked or not. He'd had his face there not twenty minutes ago.

"Sure you won't," she said. She put her top back on. Wand… ahh. Found it.

"Sure you don't want to stay a bit longer?" Charlie asked, looking her up and down. She found it a bit sad that a few weeks ago, hell, a few hours ago, she would have found that funny. Cute even.

"You're all right there," she said incredulously.

"Well, if you're sure."

"I'm sure." She'd never been surer of anything in her life. This was just a ship passing in the dark. This wasn't her big love, her grand passion, or whatever new phrase the romance writers had come up with for The One. Every princess has to kiss 137 frogs on average she thought, remembering some obscure piece of knowledge from Ginny. This one just happened to be a particularly ugly toad.

_-finis-_


End file.
